


Bloody Hell (But it's Not Really Hell)

by OldeScratch



Category: DreamSMP, Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: (cause nobody cared enough but shh), 75 percent of this story happened to be a little over five hours ago so yknow, Alternate Universe - Foster Family, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Author Is Sleep Deprived, Author Projecting onto Technoblade, Blood, Blood and Injury, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family Bonding, Family Fluff, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Foster Care, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, I Can't Believe I Wrote This, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I'm Sorry, Inspired by Real Events, Nail Polish, Not Beta Read, Older Sibling Wilbur Soot, Parent Philza Minecraft, Please Don't Hate Me, Sad Technoblade, Self-Harm, Skin picking, Subscribe to Technoblade, Technoblade-centric, The Author Regrets Everything, TommyInnit and Technoblade are Siblings, Tommyinnit swears, Why Did I Write This?, Wilbur Soot and Technoblade and TommyInnit are Siblings, Wilbur Soot and Technoblade are Siblings, Wilbur Soot and TommyInnit are Siblings, Younger Sibling TommyInnit, alright i fixed the tags to get rid of the rpf stuff, and i can vouch bc i experienced it, any interactions techno has with other people during this fic are 100 percent fictional, even tho i really wish they weren't-, friends dont read this this is a stranger-only fic okay???, i am projecting so hard i am so sorry techno, i hyperfocused big time on this, i wish someone would treat me the way phil treats techno, i wrote this instead of doing homework, like actually?? sometimes i say that in a 'well i only did this and this' but like, no one came to check on me during this, no one came to tell me to eat dinner or whatever, no this time was actually just 'okay so. i have this in front of me... time to publish!', reject the (video blogging rpf) tags, technoblade needs a hug, tell me if I missed any tags, these tags are all out of order for some reason and make no sense ignore that, this took four hours to write
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-09
Updated: 2020-12-09
Packaged: 2021-03-09 17:40:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27970178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OldeScratch/pseuds/OldeScratch
Summary: "Techno?" asked a voice, barely above a whisper.Techno held back the urge to shiver again, instead tightening the blanket he'd draped over his lap before he started. "Hm?"The door opened a bit more. "Dinner's ready, if you want to come down."Techno gestured to the papers before him and laid out on his bed to be out of the way. "Got too much homework. Sorry."Philza offered him a smile all-too soft for the gravity of the current situation. "It's alright. Just be sure to eat something, okay?""Later.""Later," Philza agreed. He nodded and closed the door so it was more-or-less back to its original state.Techno waited until footsteps began moving away from the door to look back at the assignment.(Or, Techno struggles with dermatillomania and can't concentrate on his homework. I am Projecting™ and implore you to not read.)
Relationships: Technoblade & Philza Minecraft, TommyInnit & Technoblade, Wilbur Soot & Technoblade, Wilbur Soot & Technoblade & Tommyinnit & Philza Minecraft
Comments: 25
Kudos: 565





	Bloody Hell (But it's Not Really Hell)

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is 100% unedited. I wanted a distraction from homework and instead ended up giving this version of Techno all my issues.
> 
> why do i do this to myself-
> 
> [Will be taken down if any CCs say they are uncomfortable with stuff like this!]

Techno sat before the desk, staring blankly at the words in front of him. He had a binder full of papers in his lap, a clipboard with paper on top of it. He fiddled with a pen in his hand, barely registering the repeated _click-click-click-clickclickclickclick--_

He'd been sitting in that chair for what felt like a short while but had actually been--according to the clock on his laptop--half an hour, one leg crossed over the other to help balance a full binder in his lap. A clipboard sat stop the binder, two summed-up questions to remind him what he was planning for.

He put down the pen and reread the assignment. Two "LEQ"s, or short essays (three, for ten points extra credit) due tomorrow night in preparation for a timed one on Thursday, the entire thing worth 20 points.

The binder was his, from last year--AP Human Geography, or APHuGe. He hadn't known what "AP" meant at the time, and he'd been told to mark whatever was highlighted on the paper, so he'd selected it without any knowledge that he'd be given college-level work at fourteen.

He'd fished the binder out of his backpack to help him with this year--AP US History, or APUSH. One of the LEQs was about Washington's Farewell Address, and the question had mentioned the economic, political, and social impact of the Address. Techno had remembered using a chart with those in it and had found an example of an ESPeN chart he'd filled in.

He glanced down at the four adjoining squares--economic, social, political, environment ( _always environment why could he never remember the last one_ \--)--and took in a shaky breath.

The pen shifted in his grasp, nearly falling from his hold.

Techno put the pen down. He moved the binder and clipboard from his lap so it was on top of his French binder that he kept on his desk (seeing as he was now in French II and could reuse some of last year's stuff to study.)

(God, if only he knew how to study.)

He thought.

He moved the clipboard back over to him. He slipped the clippy part of the pen you use to hook it into a pocket over the chart like a clunky paperclip and began to rifle through the papers to the right of the chart, hoping to find... something. A better example of a chart? Techno didn't know.

He gave a full-body shiver, fingers feeling colder with every movement ( _why was it always so cold he could handle warmth and frigid temperatures but he hated summer and he hated chill why wasn't the heat on--_ ) as he skimmed over the pages.

Techno flipped through green test papers, caught the word _tertiary_ on the introduction paper of unit five, flipped over an FRQ (free response question or something, he couldn't remember what it stood for) about ethanol manufacturing plants, winced at the red pen on lined paper telling him when he was wrong, blinked at a guide on chloropleth maps, and finally reached a labeled and colored map of Oceania stuffed in overtop maps of every other continent he'd had to memorize for no real reason.

No other ESPeN charts.

Techno cursed and turned the pages back over, taking his pen and heaved a quiet sigh. He tucked a strand of dyed pink hair into the loose ponytail with the rest.

Someone knocked at his door, despite the fact it had been left open enough for a sliver of light to shine through from his light. "Techno?" asked a voice, barely above a whisper.

Techno held back the urge to shiver again, instead tightening the blanket he'd draped over his lap before he started. "Hm?"

The door opened a bit more. "Dinner's ready, if you want to come down."

Techno gestured to the papers before him and laid out on his bed to be out of the way. "Got too much homework. Sorry."

Philza offered him a smile all-too soft for the gravity of the current situation. "It's alright. Just be sure to eat something, okay?"

"Later."

"Later," Philza agreed. He nodded and closed the door so it was more-or-less back to its original state.

Techno waited until footsteps began moving away from the door to look back at the assignment.

He'd been getting a B in this class--far better than the F in English, but not the A he oh-so-desperately ~~wanted~~ needed--and losing 20 points would bring him down to a C, which was basically a D, which at that point was so close to an F there was no point in trying to raise it until the next quarter.

His bottom lip hurt from where he'd been picking at it earlier, bored out of his mind and having no idea of where his fidget spinner had went. Tommy had made him smile earlier and the resulting reopening of one of the cuts still throbbed when he thought about it.

( _but he wouldn't check the damage checking the damage means looking in a mirror and he hated mirrors he hated how he looked he was just so wrong--_ )

Techno shifted. He put the binder back in his lap and leaned back. His headphone cord stretched over the gap, despite no sound haven't come from the Youtube page he'd moved to the left for almost forty-five minutes now.

He moved his thumb over to the little bit at the top of the clipboard that came out to reveal a hole. A rough edge created by years of picking at the skin caught on it, moving it up with a pleasant little _click_ and it stayed.

Techno tapped it with the same edge of his thumb, making it fall back down with a _clack_.

He moved his thumb up. _Click_.

Tapped the top of the metal bit. _Clack._

Up. _Click_.

Tap. _Clack._

Up. _Click_.

Tap. _Clack._

_Click._

_Clack._

_Click._

_Clack._

_Click._

_Clack._

_Click._

_Clack._

_Click._

_Clack._

_Click._

_Clack._

_Click. Clack. Click. Clack. Click. Clack. Click. Clack. Click. Clack. Click. Clack. Click. Clack. Click. Clack. Click. Clack._

Techno stopped himself and brushed the pad of his middle finger over the side of his thumb.

_there's a ridge there why is there a ridge there no no no ridge get rid of it doesn't feel right too rough peel it off peel it off_

His other hand moved to dig a nail into the newfound wrongness. His thumb and pointer began to pinch at little bits of skin that had grown and healed so much that Techno couldn't feel the sharp edges of his nails digging in.

He wondered about the fidget spinner as he brought his teeth to the side of his finger.

* * *

It had been a full fifteen or so minutes until Techno had managed to stop himself, mildly satisfied with the flakes of skin that now littered his clipboard. He brushed them off and placed his hands opposite each other on the binder, keeping his fingers apart from each other so pads couldn't find mistakes for nails to correct, despite the skin he knew he could just bite off of his ring fingers--

Techno took in a deep breath. He ignored the twinge in the lower left of his chest and looked back down at the paper.

They were given 5 prompts to chose from and he'd paraphrased two--four and five.

_4\. "No compromise at ConCon over slavery = US collapses." True?_

_5\. GW Farewell Address - how encourage nat unity ESP?_

( _"If there had not been a compromise at the Constitutional Convention over slavery, then the US would have collapsed." Is this true and proveable?_

_How did George Washington's Farewell Address encourage national unity over economic, social, and political issues?_

Or something like that. Techno couldn't be bothered to look up to confirm if that was the exact wording.)

Techno scraped his bottom teeth over his top lip, followed up by a quick runover with the pad of his thumb to check for dry skin.

His fingers twitched, ready to dig in, to make him bleed, to reach for whatever they could and rip it apart, to cause pain, to stop him from being able to comfortably hold a pencil--

Techno hated headaches, but that didn't stop him from slamming the clipboard to his forehead. He let out a breath through his mouth and opened his eyes that he'd scrunched shut.

That... hadn't hurt as much as he thought it would.

He did it again.

The metal holey bit inside jingled at the sudden movements.

He did it again, this time with as much power as he thought necessary.

The paper touched his nose before he lifted it away from his face.

Techno removed his hands from the clipboard, scared that someone had heard it and scared that doing it too much _would_ give him a headache.

Chatter continued outside Techno's room, where the others were sat around a table. Philza and Wilbur laughed at something, Tommy's muffled spluttering indicating they had been picking fun at him again.

Techno wondered if they'd hear if he'd done it to the wall instead.

He shook his head and turned back to his assignment.

He moved his binder to his desk and messed with the pen.

Moved the binder back to his lap.

Set the pen down.

Clicked to the tab with the LEQ assignment summary.

Picked the pen back up.

Put the pen back down.

Went back to the tab with the LEQ prompts.

Techno bit back a strangled groan.

* * *

His hands were drifting back to his lip, bored of making click-clack noises with the metal bit in the clipboard, when he heard some papers fall off his bed.

He felt annoyance flare up in him, quickly spreading into a rage much too severe for a few papers.

Techno whirled around in his chair and planted one foot surely on the ground, grabbing his binder and intending to move his chair to the side so when he stepped over to set it on the bed, it'd be quicker--

A crinkle rang from where he'd placed his foot, followed by a short tearing noise that only seemed to triple the heat spreading inside him, nullifying the cold he'd been shivering from not a few minutes ago.

He slammed the binder onto the bed, uncaring of the way the clipboard slid to the side. He snatched the papers from under the wheel of his chair and threw them with the other notebooks he'd set aside a few hours ago. He sat himself back in his seat and threw the blanket back over his lap, sucking in a breath. He held it and let it go not a few seconds later, not bothering to count. (He'd never been able to memorize the order of the numbers. Did five come first, or four? Did you let it out for eight? That didn't sound right.)

He sucked in again (Wilbur half-shouted something) this time shakier. Held it (Tommy let out a loud cackle) and ignored the twinge in the bottom left of his chest. Let it out (Philza added something quietly, causing another round of laughter) and slammed his fist into the arm of his chair.

Techno bit back a scream. He reached for the binder and put it back in his lap.

His fingers curled around the plastic of the clipboard.

His eyes scrunched shut as he slammed it onto his forehead.

* * *

_click. clack. click. clack. click. clack. click. clack._

Techno shivered.

He had more than just Chemistry and APUSH homework, right?

( _No,_ he reminded himself as he clicked over to the tab with all his assignments listed. _I just need a distraction._ )

His hand lifted to his lip, soft pads running over his lip. He felt something on the right side, pointer subconsciously curling to tug at it. He wrinkled his nose and closed his eyes as a strip of skin began to tear away from the healing cut--

"Hey, Techno," Wilbur called as he creaked the door open.

Techno glanced over, covering his mouth and faking a yawn to cover up the blood beading up on the side of his mouth. "What?" he managed through the fake-turned-real yawn.

"You didn't eat dinner."

"Nope. Doin' homework. Got two essays due tomorrow night."

"You didn't eat dinner," Wilbur repeated.

Techno turned back to the papers, hiding the blood. "I'll eat later."

"You haven't moved from your spot in three hours. I know how you are when you get like this." He seemed to pause. "Where's that fidget spinner you had?"

"Somewhere in or on my desk," he lied. He had no idea where it is. "I'll get it out if I need it, and I'll eat when I finish."

"You could just do it tomorrow," Wilbur offered. "We don't have classes tomorrow."

"Nah. Gotta meet with the English teacher about my grade at about ten. Probably gonna get an extra assignment or two."

"That's rough, man!" Wilbur laughed. He stopped when Techno didn't shoot back. He sniffed and leaned against the doorframe. "But, um. Eat soon, okay?"

"I heard ya the first time, Wil."

Wilbur audibly swallowed in the silence that enveloped them.

"Goodnight, Techno."

"Night."

Wilbur left as silent as he'd arrived, allowing the door to swing closed until it was more-or-less closed.

Techno debated pressing play on the video he'd placed in his queue, deciding against it. He'd just get distracted and right now he needed to focus. The essay wasn't going to write itself and he didn't have time to procrastinate.

He reached for his clipboard and tugged it up, not feeling the paper until the sound of ripping had reached his ears--

Techno froze as he realized he'd ripped the ESPeN chart example out of his binder. He set the clipboard back down.

A silent, drawn-out sigh escaped him.

Soft pads, widely unmarred by Techno's self-destructive tendencies, began to wander.

* * *

Blood coated his fingers, threatening to drip onto the paper if he shook too hard. He could taste metal in his mouth, likely staining his teeth from where it welled up on his lip.

It hurt to breathe. It hurt to poke his tongue out. It hurt to choke back tears to stop himself from waking up whoever could hear him. It hurt to exist, fingers screaming at him to make it stop, to realize that no matter how much he liked seeing blood, it wasn't good.

Techno tapped the back of his hand to his lip, ignoring the jolt of pain. No blood showed itself in the dim light, meaning that it had all dried up. For how long, he didn't know, and it hurt to touch, but maybe he could just peel the coagulated blood off, just like he did the skin not too long ago--

" _Techno?_ " someone whispered.

Techno felt himself freeze up.

Phil laid a careful hand on his shoulder, light enough that Techno could move away without any real effort. He kept quiet as he asked, "Would you like to come watch a movie with us?"

Techno didn't answer. Couldn't. It was almost eleven; why was Phil up?

_No_ , he tried to say, _I have homework._

Phil helped him out of the chair, careful to avoid rubbing Techno's fingers against anything. "Let's get you to the bathroom and clean this up, okay? Then we can go and watch a movie. That sound good?"

It hurt to move his mouth, Techno found, when he tried to hum. He shivered in the chill of the house, wanting his blanket back.

Phil lead him over to the sink before reaching to turn on the light. (He seemed to allow himself a small smile at Techno's noise of distate.) He helped Techno put his fingers under the faucet before turning the water on, murmuring words of comfort as he squirmed. (He wasn't trying to get away, he told himself, it just hurt. He shouldn't have felt so dismayed at seeing his own blood vanish down the drain.)

Techno waved his hands to get the water off once Phil had deemed him clean, knowing that the burn wouldn't disappear for a while. He ran the nail of his thumb on the underside of his pointer, surprised at the pain it brought. (When had he broken through the skin? Was it bleeding?)

Phil held up a rag, making Techno whimper. "I know, I know. I'll be gentle. Do you know where your fidget spinner is? Or the cube, for that matter?"

Techno shook his head, subconsciously hoping Phil missed the way his nails were already digging into the skin on the bottom of his pointer finger.

Phil handed him a tube. "Here, hold this, please. If you can start putting it on, that would be great. Can you sit on the toilet for me?"

Techno hesitated before lowering himself onto the lid. He turned his gaze down as Phil wet the rag. He glared at nothing as Phil knelt before him.

"Can you open your mouth, please?"

Techno let his jaw drop shakily, wincing and pulling away when the rag touched his lip. He closed his eyes as he moved back into his former position, bracing himself when Phil gently took hold of his jaw.

A quiet whine escaped him as Phil brushed over a cut.

"I know, Techno, it hurts. It'll be over soon."

Techno flinched when Phil pressed down a bit too hard, hands shaking with the pain as he worked on the skin on his finger.

Phil shifted his grip on the cloth, Techno peeking an eye open to see that where he'd been holding it was now a pink-red-black mark with flakes of blood sticking to it.

His tongue poked out to run over the area Phil had cleaned, sucking it back in when he realized "clean" did not mean "painless".

"Almost done, Tech," Phil promised after Techno had shut his eye. "Just gotta get this one bit, then I can swipe over your top lip, and then we can put some antibiotics on your fingers, and go watch a movie with Wil and Tommy. Okay?"

Techno forced himself to relax as Phil placed his hand back on his jaw. He let out a gasp and jerked away as soon as Phil touched the rag to his skin.

"Oh, I think you dug in a little deep here," Phil muttered, using his thumb to pull the skin down a bit and get a better look. "Would you like to do this part?" At Techno's nod, Phil offered a smile. "Can I finish your top lip really quick?"

Another nod. Not even ten seconds later and Techno held the rag just above his lip. He hesitated before dabbing at the area. It hurt just as much as before, but for some reason, it didn't _hurt-_ hurt. He swiped over the top and winced before pressing down ever-so-lightly and wiping away the blood.

"That's good enough," Phil interrupted after Techno had begun to feel tears building up behind his eyes. He took the rag and set it on the counter. "Antibiotic and hands, please."

Techno gave Phil the antibiotic and held out a hand. His eye twitched and his nose wrinkled and his lip curled painfully as Phil tapped the medicine onto his cuts and rubbed them in, pausing whenever Techno winced or sucked in a breath.

It seemed like ages before Phil had completed both hands and put the antibiotic back in the cabinet. He helped Techno to his feet and lead him out of the bathroom (turning off the light behind him) and out to where Tommy and Wilbur sat on the couch, arguing with one another in quiet voices.

"-- _I will do it, Tommy, don't fucking test me._ "

" _If you do that and hide the fucking acetone again, I'll hide your guitar tuner until it washes off._ "

" _I don't even need that thing anymore, so I would give it to you willingly, bitchboy._ "

" _You fucking piece of shit--!_ "

Phil cleared his throat.

The two whipped their heads towards the two, eyes flickering over to Techno.

Tommy pointed at Wilbur. "He threatened to paint very phallic objects on my nails in the brightest color again, and I, TommyInnit, was defending myself against such a barbaric and disgusting sense of humor--"

"He said he was gonna put his name on my nails, and that is just the _stupidest_ idea, I mean, can you imagine walking around with _TOMMY_ on your nails--"

"Can we please just watch the movie?" Phil asked, one hand coming up to rub his eye.

The two groaned and turned to Techno.

"I had a nightmare," Wilbur said, "and I haven't been able to sleep, and in order to help, you need to sit down next to me and help me pick on Tommy."

Techno raised an eyebrow.

"I also had a nightmare!" Tommy proclaimed. "And to help me, we must team up on Wilbur and paint our names on his nails in bright purple with the shiny glitter gloss--you know the one?--so that it's impossible to cover up."

"I'm having a nightmare," Phil muttered, taking a seat between Tommy and the armrest. He reached for the remote and pressed play.

"He doesn't love us anymore," Tommy informed Techno, much to the annoyance of Phil, as he pulled a blanket over their laps, "so sit down. I learned how to do this sword design and it won't turn out like shit."

"You mean like the time you tried to paint a pig and poor Techno had to walk around with a flesh monster on his thumb? I got to see it every day in lunch until it rubbed off."

Tommy glared at him with no real heat. "If this were any other situation, you would be dead where you stand, Wilbur Soot."

Wilbur reached over for some light pink nail polish, likely going to make a pig face on Techno's thumb like usual. "I'm sitting, Tomathy."

"You know what I mean!" Tommy grabbed a blood red and began to twist it open with a vengeance. "God, you're so stupid, you know? And embarrassing. I'd never want to be your friend. I'm so unlucky to be your brother--"

"Cadillac," Techno muttered despite the pain in his lip when he moved, watching with satisfaction as confusion took over the other three's faces until realization dawned upon them.

Wilbur and Phil began to laugh as Tommy went beat-red and went back to slapping polish onto Techno's nails.

* * *

Techno hadn't made it five minutes before his head lulled onto Wilbur's shoulder.

**Author's Note:**

> why did you read this


End file.
